Polymorphism is when two types implement the same
interface. Bowie, my dog, will turn 1 on the 13th of June this year. His name was Bowie before we got him. All his littermates were named
after musicians that a rebellious tween might list as bands they like:
Mötley (as in Crüe), KISS, Zepplin (as in Led). Bowie
(as in David) was both a conspicuous name and dog. The first David Bowie song I ever heard was Ziggy Stardust
and it was sung in Portuguese by not David Bowie. After
listening to the Life
Aquatic Studio Sessions on repeat for many weeks, I learned who
David Bowie was and started to collect his catalog. Hunky Dory
is one of my favorite albums. I bought Blackstar (his 25th
album) a few weeks after his death of liver cancer in 2016. I’ve seen
his most acclaimed and infamous movies: The
Hunger with Cathrine Deneuve; The
Man Who Fell to Earth where he plays a space alien; Labyrinth. None of this was a deciding factor for getting a dog named Bowie, or
for keeping his name “Bowie” after we got him. I kept his name Bowie
because he has 2 different colored eyes: one blue, one brown. “Two
different colored eyes! Just like David Bowie!” I thought, ignorantly. I
subsequently learned that, although David Bowie’s pupils were different
sizes, his eyes were the same color. All this is to say: bringing home a dog has been a learning
experience. Blazey has wanted a dog forever. At least part of her motivation for
getting a dog was to get me out of the house. I’ve worked from home for
5½ years now and I have a tendency to sit at my computer an alarming
amount (for those who care about my health and well-being anyway) – her
theory was that I would have to get out, if only to walk the dog in my
afternoon. Honestly, I also found this idea appealing and, having never
had a dog, totally plausible. After deciding to get a dog, the next step to dog companionship is
actually getting a dog. I, naively, assumed this would be the
easy part. Shelters are filled with dogs and cats that people have
surrendered because they can no longer care for them, I reasoned.
Surely, a grateful world will be glad to have a responsible adult such
as myself relieve them of the burden of care for one of these
animals. It was time for us to rescue a dog! …Or so I thought. Adopting a dog from a rescue is – for good reason – difficult. Many
rescues refuse to consider people who rent, people who don’t have a
fully enclosed backyard, or people who have never cared for a dog (we
tick all of those boxes). The rescues that are flexible want to have an
interview and a home inspection. They want references. One rescue
insisted on an egregious web form that asked for all of my personal
information on a non-https page. As much as I’d have liked to rescue a dog, it was much simpler to
find a reputable breeder. We found a breeder that was a short drive from
our house. We were able to visit all the puppies several times. We met
the parents. The breeder kept excellent records going back several
generations and was very knowledgable. We signed a contract to the
effect that if we were ever to surrender the dog it would be into the
breeder’s care: and that was that. We were selective when we met the puppies: carefully observing their
demeanor. Being new dog caregivers, we felt that a low-key,
even-tempered dog would be best for us and our new canine companion.
Bowie seemed like the calmest puppy of the whole litter – he adorably
fell asleep in our laps – twice. The day we were going to pick Bowie up
and take him home, we were greeted by a Bowie I’d not seen in our visits
to that point – running around the house at full speed! Shaking his toys
with no small amount of faux puppy violence! Prancing! It never occurred
to me until that moment that a puppy’s demeanor could vary so
drastically from one hour of the day to the next. Puppies are assholes. A puppy’s cuteness is directly proportional to its propensity for
assholishness; survival would be impossible were it otherwise. Bowie was
the cutest puppy I’ve ever seen, his temperament was proportionally
assholish – he once pulled my pajama bottoms down in the front yard
during an early morning potty break while two elderly neighbor women
strolled passed us. Socializing a puppy is critical to their success. There is a
“critical socialization period” between 8-weeks and 16-weeks (give or
take) during which you need to start to introduce them to the world they
are expected to navigate: other humans, other dogs, cars, bikes,
skateboards, rain, side-walks, gravel, car-rides, cats, etc. Strangely,
this is also the time in a puppy’s life where they’re not fully
vaccinated: there is a risk of them contracting parvo just from going to
places that other perfectly healthy adult dogs have been. Fortunately,
there are many places that offer “puppy kindergarten” to help socialize
dogs whose immune systems are not fully formed. Bowie is what is known as a “reactive” dog. That is: he reacts. From
a behaviorist point of view it is incorrect to say he’s “excited” or
“fearful” all you can say with certainty is that he is reacting. Bowie
is reactive to other dogs. I can incorrectly say that he’s excited about
other dogs. He’s been that way since early on in puppy kindergarten. He
would strain and bark and jump to get to other dogs. He’s also what the woman who ran our kindergarten called a “big
player” which means, really, he’s a scary player. He plays too rough for
a lot of puppies. Outside of puppy kindergarten, Bowie was similarly hard to handle.
Before they lose their baby teeth, puppy’s teeth are incredibly sharp. A
favorite Bowie maneuver was running to you and jumping up to nip your
hands, or grabbing onto your ankle – not letting you walk through the
house. On a walk once he bit a guy on the nose. Made him bleed. I think that Bowie, in particular, may have special needs. A woman at
the dog training place once told us that Bowie is lucky to have us.
Lucky that we have the patience to work with him. Lucky that we have the
money and resources to pay for training and treats. She told us this on
his last day of puppy kindergarten when he was too out-of-control to go
inside – he was getting too big and he was too excited. This was a hard time for me: it’s hard to have a poorly behaved dog.
It feels like a personal failing – it’s frustrating – it’s embarrassing.
My work suffered. My relationships suffered. I understand why shelters
don’t let the uninitiated take home dogs – it’s nothing like my
idealized version of living with a dog. All those Air Bud
movies are a fucking lie. I read a bunch of books about dog
training. I watched youtube videos. I learned about animal behavior; dog
body signals. I found more classes beyond puppy kindergarten. I took him
to obedience class. Agility class. We paid for 1-on-1 training to
address his leash reactivity on walks. I bought special pouches to carry
treats. I bought training aids, “pet professional workshops”, a feeder
with a bluetooth remote. If it were not in Bowie’s nature to bite my ankles I probably
wouldn’t have bothered with all of his training. Also, the training
didn’t even make him stop biting my ankles – at some point he just
stopped. I worked with him. I trained with him. I learned with him. He’s still
got a long way to go. He still mouths at my hands and arms – not hard –
just because, well, how else do you get my attention away from the
computer? I’ve taken to calling these bites “mouth hugs”. Training, as I subsequently learned, is not about having a
well-behaved dog. Maybe that’s the end game – time will tell – but the
real purpose of training is to help you and your dog communicate. Now he’s a year old. All this training has paid dividends. He’s not perfect – he probably
won’t be – but we can communicate now. I know how he’s feeling before he
reacts. I’ve probably become a better dog companion more than he’s
become a better dog. Every morning, at 6:30am, he bounds onto the bed where I’m sleeping.
Hurling himself at top speeds – 50 lbs of fur and enthusiasm – excited
to see me after 8 hours of only seeing the backs of his eyelids. We take
a nice long walk around the park every morning after my coffee and
before my breakfast. He still barks at dogs sometimes – he’s very into
squirrels. When we get back, he sleeps by my desk or in the living room
until around noon. We’ll go play frisbee in the backyard for a bit.
We’ll come back inside and he’ll eat a stuffed kong and hang out. He’ll
wonder around, chew on his chew toys, and play by himself until 3pm or
4pm – then it’s time for more time in the backyard. More time to
play. I think that I would have been completely awed by his behavior if I’d
have somehow been able to glimpse my life today during the struggles of
the past year. He’s a real dog. I’m a real dog owner. It’s just taken a
good while to establish these basic facts.
Rationale
How to get a dog
Training
Now
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